


Get off my Lawn

by DaveHarley (NedandChuck)



Series: OTP prompt list [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: (never a good idea), Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, F/M, Fluff, drunk Dave, groggy jade is pretty grumpy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 16:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4753721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NedandChuck/pseuds/DaveHarley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘i met you last night when you were drunkenly patting my dog in my backyard at 3 in the morning and when i asked you what the hell you were doing you slurred something about dogs being great and then you threw up on my feet and then fifteen minutes later you were passed out on my couch so that’s why you’re here right now also what the fuck is your name and why were you patting a dog in a stranger’s backyard in the middle of the night’ au</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get off my Lawn

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to get back into the swing of writing, so this might be a little sloppy...

Bec won't stop barking.

It's especially strange because anyone who knows your dog knows that he _never_ barks at anything, but five minutes ago, he ran out of the kitchen to the back yard and if he keeps this up, the guy next door is going to pay you a visit. (And while you know you could take the weirdo, you would swear on your grandpa's stuffed statue that he carries a knife on his person at all times.)

Quickly, you slide open the glass door to the back yard and whisper-yell at your dog to, _“Please_ be quite, Becquerel!!”

Bec stops barking, but you can still hear a low growl for a moment before all is quiet. Then he whines the specific whine reserved only for when someone scratches the special spot behind his ear. If this situation wasn't suspicious before, well... it was, so there's no point in saying it suddenly is now. You fumble for the flashlight you keeps on your deck at all times and use it to search out your dog.

When you find him, you gasp and almost drop your light. You reach one hand back into the door to grab your rifle and flick on the porch light. “Who are you?”

The stranger sitting in the middle of your yard petting your dog looks up and fixes the aviators that sit askew on his nose. “That's a gun,” he slurs his words, but doesn't seem surprised or frightened.

“Yes,” You keep your voice steady and commanding. “It is, and I've known how to use it since I was thirteen. Who are you?”

He opens his mouth to reply, but Bec has decided that he's fed up with the lack of attention he's been receiving and headbutts the intruder. The man falls over and Becquerel lays down on top of him.

“Bec, you're so useless!” You cries in exasperation, and your dog fixes you with a look that tells you he knows it's not true. You storm across your backyard in your bare feet, approaching the intruder. “What are you doing here?”

“I can't breathe,” is his only reply. With a click of your tongue, Bec is rolling off the man and rubbing his fur on the dew-damp grass. “I'm Dave Strider,” the intruder finally answers, shakily getting to his feet and dusting the dog hair off his clothes, “And I've come to get my brother's things. Can you please stop pointing your gun at me?”

“No!” you fix your grip on the rifle. “I don't know your brother, his things aren't here.”

“What?” Dave gasps. “You aren't English?”

It's three-thirty in the morning, so it takes you a moment to process the question and stop yourself from replying, “I'm _American,”_ but you realize that he means Jake, who stayed at your house for most of last month. “No, I'm his cousin. Why?”

“That makes sense, you look nothing like the picture he showed me.” He tilts his head to the side (and almost loses balance). “Well, maybe a little. My brother, Dirk, dated your cousin for a while, but they visited Splitsville and never looked back, and then today we were at the bar – I DJ there to pay for college – after work and he suddenly realized that he forgot his favorite sweater at your house. So we walked over here and I decided to climb the fence and sneak in here and get it back, but then I saw your dog,” Dave coos quietly and pats Bec's head, “And then you started pointing your shoot-em-up stick at me.”

“Why couldn't he come to get it himself, when it's morning?” You lower your gun to your side.

“He was scared of running into your cousin, I guess.”

“Jake's not here. He went back home three days ago.”

“Oh man, he's gonna feel so ridiculous when he hears that. Can I come inside? My shoes are soaked.”

You look down to see that his converse and pant legs are coated in mud. He looks pitiful, and entirely too drunk to make it back over the wall to where he could fall face first onto _concrete_ as opposed to the soft flowerbeds lining your side of the fence. (And _oh_ how you dread the morning when you will have to see what he had done to your poor garden.)

“Yeah, roll up your pants and take off your socks and shoes before you come inside,” you offer, feeling sorry for the poor guy. “Do you like tea?”

Dave hums for a long moment. He looks at you curiously, and even though you can't see his eyes, his eyebrows are expressive enough. The thought occurs to you that only douchebags wear sunglasses at night, but you shake your head. You've probably been hanging out with Karkat too much, because that was _mean_. Finally, he says, “Do you have apple juice?”

“Umm,” you lead him up the stairs to the porch, watching him to make sure he doesn't tip over and fall down. “I think so.”

“Yeah!” he pumps his fist, then takes a moment to let his head stop spinning. “I knew you were cool. What about vodka?”

“Yeah, I don't think you need any vodka, sorry.”

“You're probably right,” he nods solemnly and plops down in a chair to take off his shoes.

“Follow me,” you command once he's rolled up his pants legs until the mud isn't showing, and you do feel sorry for him again, because he's wearing skinny jeans, and those aren't the easiest to roll up. “I'll show you to where Jake's stuff is, and you can find some pants to borrow and your brother's stuff.”

“Yes ma'am,” he slurs, and you lead him up the stairs. While he's rooting through the closet, picking up some things and inspecting the label that reads 'D Stri', you stand nervously in the doorway.

“When you're done, come back to the kitchen with your pants and socks. I'll put those in the wash.” He takes off his shades to see through the dark closet. “And get you some apple juice.”

Dave tilts his head up and gives you the most sincere look you've ever seen – which is saying something, considering who your brother and cousins are. “Thank you _so much.”_ he practically whispers.

You nod and shake your head before heading back downstairs to fulfill your promise and hopefully make a pot of coffee. Dave trots back into the kitchen moments later with a bag of things that aren't yours and a mortified look on his face.

“Is your cousin in a _frat?”_ he asks quietly, staring in horror at the khaki shorts he'd found. “Did my brother date a _frat boy?_ Why doesn't he own any real pants? I thought I found one pair, but they were the kind that unzipped into shorts.”

He looks and sounds like he's seen a ghost, and his red eyes are tearing up. “Sorry,” you reply, trying to hide your giggles as you take his dirty clothes from him. “If I had known you were so fashion conscious, I would have let you borrow my clothes.”

“ _Can I?”_ he pleads, and you would consider it, but it's still four in the morning.

“It's too late now. Maybe next time you end up in my backyard in a drunken stupor.” Dave looks like he's trying to resign himself to wearing Jake's dorky shorts as he heaves himself onto a barstool and picks up his apple juice with both hands. You shake your head and run to start the wash. You come back to find him with one hand curled around an empty glass and his head on the island, looking like he's about to pass out any moment. “Hey, Dave, do you need me to help you get back to your brother?”

He squints at you and shakes his blond head without picking it up off the table. “He's already gone, I told him that if I wasn't back in ten minutes that he should go home without me, and I know he would. It's been half an hour.”

“Do you want me to drive you home?”

“It's almost daylight and you look like you're about to fall over, I can't do that to you. I'll walk home, I guess.” He doesn't make it off the stool without crashing to the floor, and your dog.

“Just spend the night.” you offer, huffing a warm laugh. “You can sleep in the living room.”

You steady him by grabbing his upper arm, and he mutters, 'it's okay, I won't let you fall down,' all the way until you reach the leather couch. As he completely crashes, you fall into the armchair beside it, just to rest for a moment.

 

You wake up to the sun in your eyes and Bec's cold nose poking at your ankle. You didn't sleep in your bedroom last night? But why?

Squinting around for your glasses, you find a note.

“ _sorry for being a douche and inconveniencing you last night  
i know it probably sucked having a hot drunk guy collapse all over your house but thanks for letting me get my bros shit and for washing my pants  
not in that order  
i considered lighting your cousins pants on fire as a favor to _ you _but I figured he wouldnt dig that and I didnt want it to come off as a thing my brother asked me to do_  
_anyways heres my number ill take you out sometime as thanks for last night_  
 _god that sounds dirty_  
 _i dont mean it like that sorry_  
 _i cant believe i wrote this in pen fuck_  
 _anyways bye_  
 _(555-xx)_  
 _dstri_ ”

You glance down at your dog, who gives you a Look, then back at the paper before wiggling your phone out of your back pocket and entering in his number.

Just in case.

When you get up to see if the coffee you never drank last night is still on the counter, you happen to glance out your window to see a Dave-sized dent right in your petunias.

You sigh heavily and down your coffee quickly so you can start a plan to fix them. You go upstairs and see your cousin's door open and a pile of khaki shorts strewn around the room. On top of the dresser is a pair of aviators. You take a picture and text it to Dave.

 

**i think you mightve left something here!!**

**whos this**

**hmmm  
the girl from last night ;)**

**uuuuh  
** **OH  
** **haha jakes cousin right  
** **man i have been looking all over for those damn things  
** **i have to wear my dumb bros shades  
** **mind if i come pick them up**

**of course not!!!**

 

You don't know why he would have to wear his brother's shades, but he promises to be over **“in like 10 or some shit”** so you figure you can ask him then.

He arrives at your house in five minutes and sheepishly tells you he lives two blocks over. You hand him his sunglasses, but he doesn't change them out just awkwardly stares at them in his hand for a minute.

“Are you gonna put them on?”

“Nah,” he replies, shoving the triangular glasses up his nose.

“Why do you hide your eyes anyways? They're really pretty.”

He startles, “You've _seen_ them?”

“Of course?”

Suddenly Dave looks nervous. “Sorry, was I not supposed to?”

“It's cool, I guess, as long as they didn't freak you out or whatever.”

You tilt your head to the side and begin to ask why they would when he interrupts you.

“Hey, I wasn't weird to you last night, was I?”

“Well,” you smile, “You were completely drunk and sitting in my yard petting my dog before dawn in the morning, so I don't know how to answer that.”

“No I mean like, I wasn't drunkenly hitting on you was I?” he gives you an apologetic look. “Like telling you that I always fall for pretty people giving me aj, or that your eyes remind me of the neon sign for my favorite take out place.”

You giggle, “No, but you're telling me that now.”

“Shit,” he says as if he just realized that. “I'm still hung over, ignore me.”

“Aw, no,” you tilt your head and smile, “I think it's nice!”

The only way you can tell that he's embarrassed is by the redness of his cheeks. His mouth is set in a thin line. “Thanks? Uh, hey, do you wanna go get some food?”

You pause to consider, watching him subtly shift from foot to foot in the doorway, “Sure, why not?”

 


End file.
